To this frail shelter from the wild uproar, and the blinding spray, nearly all the touring gentlemen, and even many of the pretty ladies, find their way.

But here I often saw their noble daring fail, and have watched them dripping and draggled turn again to the sheltering stairs, leaving us in full possession of the awful scene we so dearly loved to gaze upon.
How utterly futile must every attempt be to describe the spot! How vain every effort to convey an idea of the sensations it produces! Why is it so exquisite a pleasure to stand for hours drenched in spray, stunned by the ceaseless roar, trembling from the concussion that shakes the very rock you cling to, and breathing painfully in the moist atmosphere that seems to have less of air than water in it?
Yet pleasure it is, and I almost think the greatest I ever enjoyed.

We more than once approached the entrance to this appalling cavern, but I never fairly entered it, though two or three of my party did.

I lost my breath entirely; and the pain at my chest was so severe, that not all my curiosity could enable me to endure it.
What was that cavern of the winds, of which we heard of old, compared to this?
A mightier spirit than Aeolus reigns here.
Nor was this spot of dread and danger the only one in which we found ourselves alone.

The path taken by "the company" to the shantee, which contained the "book of names" was always the same; this wound down the steep bank from the gate of the hotel garden, and was rendered tolerably easy by its repeated doublings; but it was by no means the best calculated to manage to advantage the pleasure of the stranger in his approach to the spot.